Iowa, being the land of all things porky and divine, was home to what was likely the best pork tenderloin sandwich I ever had on a bad road trip. We went to pick up Buttercup in the middle of nowhere, and how can you pass up a tiny roadside restaurant, especially when our friends already insisted they would never again return to Iowa. Good stuff. Good, good stuff. You can see the pictures in my MySpace album, if you're so inclined.
There is, any time I eat such things, a tingling of physical joy in my medulla oblongata that I cannot explain. Like the tickle one gets while swinging on a park swing, right before someone attempts to underdog you and takes a laden swing to the head.
And yes, I had to include a picture of the brain and all of its lovely braininess, just so you could tell exactly where the medulla oblongata resides, not mistaking it for the angular gyrus.
Speaking of the facets of the brain, it's time for your bonus movie quote of the week, since Courtney knocked out Monday's quote in minutes flat and we still have four more days until the next Movie Mania Monday:
Guess away, the prizes are endless and highly envied!
I stand on the hill, not for a thrill,
but for the breath of a fresh kill.
Never mind the man who contemplates
doin' away with license plates.
He stands alone, anyhow, bakin' the cookies of discontent
by the heat of the laundromat vent. Leavin' his soul…and partin' the waters of the
medulla oblongata of - -brrrrrr! - -mankind!
Of course, at mention of the angular gyrus, I'm made to reminisce about another sandwich favorite, and am so glad we found two quite adequate replacements for Yanni's gyros back in Wisconsin. Romano's grates the onions finely, so they're not trailing about when I take my too-big bites.
I was watching Top Chef Masters last night, and the most brilliant concept for a four-course meal was spread before me. A meal based on memories, on those stand-out moments in the culinary lives of these chefs, and I had to look back. What was my first prominent food memory? I remember little of our trip to Colorado in 1975, other than falling in the Cripple Creek while panning gold. I remember our neighbors hosting a pig roast every year, moist, salty crackling pork, with sauerkraut and white potatoes laden with the drippings. I remember my first taste of blood-rare beef, in Quebec City at age 10.
Food really is an adventure for me, I never want to be bored with it, there are so many exciting places to go in this world and when I get there, I want something I can't eat anywhere else.
I'm actually misty (and semi-tumescent) at the thought of these things. What kinds of memories have guided you in life? What first triggered you to do what you wanted to do with your life (or still want to do?)
Oh, and lastly, I must thank Mjenks the Indefatigable for posting the following photo. I wonder if they come in a boy version? I may have to get a pair nonetheless.